They En't Never Gonna Notice
by seori
Summary: Before Northern Lights Lyra and Roger take a little journey down the river... on the Costas’ narrowboat.


**Summary: **(Before Northern Lights) Lyra and Roger take a little journey down the river... on the Costas' narrowboat.

**Disclaimer:** Yes, you know the details. Isn't mine, but I wish it was.

**Notes:** It's actually been a long time since I've written anything at all save a couple of essays for school, so please go easy on me -bows- And I do know all Lyra did was throw mud at the boat and search it for a bung, but this is an alternate version. (The truth is, I didn't realise Pullman used details before I started writing!)

Oh, and if there are any inconsistencies with spelling/grammar (minus the "en't never"), please tell me so I can fix it for maximum appeal. Thank you!

**- They En't Never Gonna Notice -**

- by seori -

The river glistened and shimmered beneath the weight of the Gyptian narrowboats moored in the docks. Fine dawn mist hung about the trees, draped lazily across branches and beams. Jordan loomed in the distance, majestic in its presence somewhere beyond the haze. Soon the market would be waking up to the light of an Oxford sunrise - only the guards were up at this hour, the coldest of the pending day.

...or so it seemed.

Roger crouched beside a stack of unused wooden crates, picking at a thread in the heavy material covering them. "It's too cold to be outside, Lyra! Why're we out here anyhow?"

"You'll see soon," Lyra whispered, and then – "Be quiet. I think I can hear something."

So Roger was quiet, Salcilia squirming impatiently beside him. Absentmindedly he watched his daemon flicker from terrier to daschund to moth to ermine, experimenting with different forms in her boredom. Pantalaimon, cat-formed, peered out intently from a hole in the sacking.

"What are we waiting for?"

"An opening."

"Opening?"

"An opening." Lyra was silent again, listening for something Roger couldn't hear.

Suddenly she sat up into a crouching position, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Get ready to run for it when I say the word."

"Run to where?" Salcilia ducked underneath Pantalaimon, looking at the hooded crates submerged in the half-dark.

"That narrowboat. The huge one with red and gold paint, to the left a bit."

It was a moment before Salcilia saw it. "There's only one guard. Why?"

"Everyone else is sleeping, probably," Lyra answered loftily. "They had a landfolk party last night so they're all in the inns." She lifted a corner of the heavy covers, crawling outside, Pantalaimon on her heels. Roger followed with his daemon, his breath mingling with the mist. They had emerged behind the stack of crates – a good place to watch the guard, who had now disappeared. "When the sun rises we're gonna hijack it."

"_What!?_" Pantalaimon looked almost as surprised as Roger. "How? Why?"

"Just for a lark. We'll take it down to one of the closer towns, surprise the claybed children and then give it back to the Costas. They en't never gonna notice." Lyra laughed. "Think of the expressions on their faces when they find out two little kids took their boat!"

The boy gazed at the shadow wordlessly, mouth hanging slightly open in wonder. "We're gonna take over that? Just us two? "

Pantalaimon a sleek pine marten, jutted in. "How in the name of Logic and Reason will we be able to steer something as big as that? Only a silly child would even think of the notion!"

"Oh Pan, stop your nagging. You know you want to try, too. Think of what we could do!" Merriment sparkled in Lyra's eyes. "It'll be fun!" Her hands clutched at her dress, eyes taking in the mass of the boat. "We'll show those claybed idiots!"

And then Roger was taken in by the idea too, and Salcilia crowed in her joy. In a moment he had been transformed, from the subservient kitchen boy to a fearless crusader, eager to take on the river. They shared a short, fierce gaze. "We'll do it, Lyra! We'll show them!"

"Good." She glanced up at the sky. "Almost sunrise. The Gyptian guard will take a short break then, until the next guards take over. We can take it then."

"Yes, that sounds good."

They waited for what seemed like an age before the sun rose. Footsteps made their way to the edge of the docks and beyond, a pigeon cooed in the resounding silence, a far-away clock dinged sleepily - and then, dimly, two small shadows scampered down the gangway of the _Isora_, paused for a moment as one shadow pulled back a trapdoor, then disappeared into the gloom of the hatch.

Lyra and Roger looked around, eyes taking some time to adjust to the darkness. Within a few moments they found the naptha lamp, and on lighting the wick found a cosy room somewhat cluttered by the maps, scrolls and writing equipment on the large desk that resided in the centre of the room. The object that really caught their eyes, however, was beyond the desk, dwarfed by the mahogany behemoth.

A... wheel, of some sorts, but not a wheel at all. Lyra had only seen the likes of it in books of sailing ships and galleons, never one in real life. Roger, having spent the majority of his life in the kitchens of Jordan or outside, had no idea what it was.

"Is this a decoration?" Salcilia asked, creeping around the wheel once. It was almost the height of the children, with large, weathered handles extending past the rim of the wheel, shiny with age.

"No," answered Pantalaimon, who had also ventured closer to look at the wheel. "It looks to be used quite frequently. I can still smell human hands on it."

"Well then, let's see what it does," Lyra offered, and grasped two of the handles.

"Remember what the book about ships said," Pantalaimon warned, "You need to –"

Lyra turned the wheel.

All four were thrown to one side of the room, landing heavily as the narrowboat tilted and strained against its moorings.

"The ropes! I forgot!" Lyra scrambled upright despite the rocking of the boat and took the wheel again, forcing it to still. "Roger, hurry and cut the mooring ropes. Let's go all the way down to Abingdon, or even further."

"Can't I just undo them?"

"Whatever; just set us free."

A few moments later, the tension holding the boat lessened considerably, and Lyra heard a startled yelp as the ship lurched into the main riverway. "Hold the wheel, Pan," she ordered, and leapt up the ladder into the sunlight.

Surprisingly enough, there weren't many boats in the main thoroughfare, only the odd Gyptian boat making its way to or from Oxford. It was still early in the season and the fog had kept most of the families from finding the markets of the city, Lyra mused. Of course there wouldn't be.

She glanced up and down the boat, noting its shape and size. The bond that kept her and Pan together didn't let her traverse its length, but she took in what she could, breathing in the quickly dissipating mist. Deep in her stomach she felt the first growls of hunger - but she took no notice of that. They would eat when they got back later.

"Lyra!" Salcilia bounded up to her feet, Roger right behind her. "I've checked the whole boat and the wheel is the only way to control the boat. Is Pan there?"

"Mm." Lyra nodded, grinning widely. "Imagine the expressions on their faces when they find out what we've done, Roger! We'll have all the children under our control!" She slipped down the hatch, her friend following with alacrity. "Just think - Lyra, master boat-hijacker and her accomplice, Roger, two names that will live on forever, longer even than that Tom Herion's."

For some time they played adventurers both on and under the deck, keeping the wheel steady with a chair and a couple of lengths of rope. Every few minutes they checked on it, but during one of Lyra's captivating narratives (in which she and Pantalaimon were always the fearless adventurers and Roger the unwavering assistant) neither Salcilia nor Roger dared to sneak down and take a look.

And, during the two hours in which they skimmed the water peacefully, came the inevitable statement of triumph: "They en't never gonna notice!" And Roger agreed, because of course it was true.

After their latest bout of swashbuckling adventures, the two comrades were lying on the deck soaking up the sun when Pan called from the bow. "The boat is changing direction, Lyra!"

In a shot, both children and their daemons were under the deck, fumbling about in the half-dark. The ropes had given way and the wheel was listing, tipping the chair precariously. They hurried to straighten the mess of papers and pens as well as they could, Lyra taking the wheel as any good leader should. Roger ducked up again to find more ropes to lash the wheel with. The girl and her daemon were too distracted with keeping the boat steady to hear her friend's voice, answering to a deeper voice. And then:

"Lyra! Come up here!"

"I _told_ you, Roger," she exclaimed impatiently, propping the wheel with the chair again. For good measure she tied the ropes again, tighter than before. She bounded up the hatch, and was momentarily blinded by the sunlight. "They en't never gonna –"

And then she careered into Ma Costa.

- end -

Reviews please! Hehe...


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